


Re: pray

by Medea (flailingthroughsanity)



Category: Fate/EXTRA, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Fluff without Plot, Gen, I don't know why I wrote this, Introspection, More monologues from Hakuno courtesy of me, This is the result after a 64 hour playthrough of fate/extra with all three servants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 05:14:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6642682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flailingthroughsanity/pseuds/Medea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’s struggling, drifting through the cold of Alice’s ice castle — unwilling to acknowledge the warmth of her Servant’s closeness, of his comforting scent and his extended hand of help covered in thorns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Re: pray

**Author's Note:**

> This is nothing substantial, like 90% of my works. I just wanted to write this because of that stupid comment Archer has when you're in the Arena during week 3 and he just goes "We've been in the Arena for a while. Aren't you cold?" and I made this just so they could have some warm cuddles or pseudo-cuddles or lack of cuddles or just plain mishmash of keyboard i'm sorry this is trash i am trash
> 
> i am fate/EXTRA trash (and i am proud)
> 
> (title taken from the song by wonderful singer Aimer, whose music is the shining light of my universe)

It’s cold.

It’s cold.

It’s cold.

The thought echoes and echoes, like permanent data, in Hakuno’s mind, but she bites her own lip and braves the gust thrown at them. She doesn’t know how a combination of ones and zeroes could affect her like this, send her fingers stiff into ice and her lips chapped, but she doesn’t really have the time to think about that — beside her, Archer continues to loom over, hands crossed over his chest as his red coat whips with the wind.

She feels her brows furrow in annoyance — unbidden and unconscious — as she takes in her Servant, completely unaffected and nonchalant, even though the black, skin-tight suit he wore under the coat didn’t look remotely warm.

Her silence doesn’t go unnoticed, and Archer sends a glance her way, one pale eyebrow raised. “Is something wrong, Master?”

A disinterested voice, marked with subtle snide, as if he was holding back his irritation. It lacked genuine concern, Hakuno knows, considering the path before them was devoid of hostile programs. Regardless, it did nothing but bolster her irritation.

“Nothing. I’m fine.” And with that, Hakuno turns away and marches forward, sheer will battling the ice that seemed to seep through the barriers of the Arena walls. Behind, Hakuno hears her Servant sigh — mostly in exasperation — before his almost-silent steps follow hers.

Beyond, the shining façade of a fortress stands like a hulking beast, diaphanous and beautiful, but deadly cold to the core. Chunks of ice floated within the artificial sea, and beyond the subtle glow of the Arena walls, all Hakuno sees is darkness, save for the castle. It’s almost as terrifying as it is beautiful, perhaps even more so.

She continues on, her fingers digging into her palm as she turns from left to right and from right to left almost every ten steps, wary of enemy programs ripping through the binary fabric or worse: that capricious Master – Alice – and her dark twin.

At the thought, Hakuno almost fidgets in place, but she manages to push it down. Yesterday, they had just managed to deconstruct Alice’s reality marble – an experience she never wanted to revisit, still recalling that fleeting phase of derealization – her body fading through space and time, her existence re-writing, re-creating, returning to zero as she fought to hold on to the present.

It was only due to Rin’s help and Archer’s steadfast insistence that she managed to remember who she was, by name the very least, and escape the Nameless Forest.

Still, Hakuno sighs, the best her Servant could do right now was to act a _little_ nice, considering she managed to survive until this round.

They make a turn, and the space before them distorts for a moment, codes and entries swirling in a circle, and an enemy program appears. Taking a step back, Hakuno doesn’t even get to make so much as a sound as Archer pulls her back by the shoulder and he jumps toward the hostile data, projected swords coming down before the program could so much as identify them.

A tell-tale crack, like stone shattering, and the program breaks into pieces, each assimilating back into the arena floor. Silence continues.

Finally realizing that she was holding her breath, Hakuno pants for a moment before she sends a glare down her Servant’s back.

“You didn’t have to manhandle me like that.” She says, a little surprised at how even her voice sounds in spite of her returning irritation. Perhaps the events yesterday still affected her so.

Archer doesn’t even turn, simply de-materializes his swords and responds in his usual cool voice. “What would you prefer, I use you as a spear against it or perhaps a shield?”

She bites her lip again. “Neither. A little warning was all I asked.”

A snort. “Even if I did, I doubt you would have heard it, considering how oblivious you were to everything around you just now.”

A flare of fury. Hakuno, tired of talking to his back, walks up to him and grabs his arm, pulling him to face her. “I wasn’t—“

Her Servant’s grey eyes are serious, and there’s no trace of mirth in them. “Yes, you were. I could hear your thoughts from across the Arena. Master, while I approve of your introspective qualities, I highly suggest you save that in the security of our private room.”

Hakuno shuts her mouth, still angry but also aware of the truth in her Servant’s words. What Archer said was true, even if the manner he chose to say it in was not to her liking. This was the third round.

Yesterday, she was almost erased from existence.

The day before, she and Archer had made battle with a formidable beast created by Alice.

She had already killed two Masters. This wasn’t the time to get lost in thought and be distracted, especially in the Arena — where a well-aimed poisoned arrow could take her out, or a magical blast from Alice could disintegrate her. Archer was right, even if it pissed her off, he was still right.

Cheeks aflame with embarrassment, Hakuno retracts her hand and, like her Servant, crosses it against her chest, head turned aside. “I’m sorry.”

Archer, in turn, merely nods.

Resolving to pay more attention to her surroundings, Hakuno continues on. They make their way deeper into the Arena, the castle growing in size as each step takes them closer to it. They encounter a few more enemy programs, and Archer manages to get them through, mostly intact, perhaps a little exhausted.

There’s a clearing before them, low stone walls and devoid of enemy programs. While she knew that her Servant would suggest pushing forward, especially since they were still lacking the second trigger for the elimination round, Hakuno knew that she needed the rest. Her feet were tired, and it was getting colder. She didn’t know if time existed in the Arena — if it even existed in the entire Moon Cell — but it was as if night was descending fast, and the cold grew colder with it.

“I—“ a little hesitation, and Hakuno steels her resolve. “I need to rest.”

Archer pauses, turning his head to look at her. Perhaps noticing the way she was holding back the tremors, or how white her knuckles had gone as she grips her coat tighter. He nods, and Hakuno could almost cry in joy as she ambles her way to a small boulder, groaning a little as she gracelessly falls to the ground on her rear and leans against the low wall.

She hears her Servant chuckle and she’s almost tempted to stand back up and smack him when she notices that Archer wasn’t laughing in condescension. There was that mirth again, the amusement in his grey eyes — the one absent a moment ago — as he walks to the wall opposite hers and sits atop it. His red coat billows in the breeze, his hair swaying, arms still crossed.

The wind picks up again, and Hakuno ducks her head, letting her hair cover her neck. She’s rearranges herself, and folds her knees against her chest, letting the closeness warm her slightly.

There’s a moment of silence, broken only by her breathing and the occasional sound of distortion as the underwater current collides with the Arena wall, a dull thump. Odd, for some reason, it almost sounded real. Almost everything in the Arena sounded real, as if they were in an underwater dungeon, with sunken ships and floating castles and submerged ruins.

In the silence, Hakuno takes the opportunity to glance at her Servant — Archer. She takes in his bronze skin, his cheekbones, his grey eyes and that shock of white hair and his hands.

He was a strange man. She knew next to nothing about him, save for all that Archer allows to escape his mouth. He was cynical, snide and a biting remark never seemed to lose the opportunity to make itself known. He was almost like Rin in that regard, but the mage had her shortcomings, times where she would ramble and blubber — Archer didn’t have that, almost every sentence out of his mouth was an arrow ready to pierce.

The first time she had met him, in that circular room, surrounded by the corpses of her classmates — _friends_ — confused, scared, she almost had no time to take his barbs to heart, when she was facing certain death. When Archer had struck down that effigy, it was like a spell had been broken and her awareness returned to her tenfold. The shock, plus the weird pain of the effigy’s blade (it reaped no blood, but she remembered feeling like a part of her had died) and the lancing bite of the Command Seals had been too much for her, exhaustion taking over consciousness.

Hakuno shifts in her place, and her bag presses into her side. Realization dawns as she opens it, and the sight of the packed curry bread almost makes her weep in relief, as her stomach decided to make its existence known just at the right moment.

She grabs one for herself, and seeing Archer’s curious glance, she grabs the last one from her bag. She extends it to him, and she’s rewarded by a raised brow. Again.

“Servants do not need to eat — and even if we do, the food in your hand is still data. It’s a virtual illusion, so to speak.” He answers in response to her silent question, and he sounds awfully recited, like he’s been practicing that.

Hakuno ignores the comment. “Humor me, Archer.”

Her Servant continues to stare at the curry bread in her extended hand, and Hakuno shakes it a little — she wasn’t getting up from her comfortable position any time soon; she might throw it at him though — but Archer sighs again (he’s constantly doing that, she notices) before he stands from his position and makes his way to her, his coat billowing.

He takes hold of the bread, his fingers covering hers for a moment, and she feels warmth flare. She’s surprised, a little too surprised that she almost didn’t let go of the curry bread and it was only Archer’s questioning hum that made her loosen her fingers.

Still recalling the brush of warmth, Hakuno distracts herself by chomping down on the bread. Virtual data or not, she felt the hunger fading and the spice in the bread heating her somewhat. It didn’t have to be real, but it was enough for now, at the very least.

She expects Archer to return to his post opposite hers. He instead chose to sit on the wall she was leaning against, his legs almost pressing against her shoulder. In fact, his coat actually managed to cover her somewhat but the white-haired Servant didn’t seem to pay attention, save for the pastry in his hands.

 _Servants do not need to eat, my ass_. Hakuno thinks, a little gloating, as Archer takes a bite and he could act as nonchalant as he wants, but there was no mistaking the upturned corners of his lips, or the concentration in his eyes.

It was probably weird to have a Master stare at her Servant while he eats, but Hakuno can’t really pull her gaze away from Archer. Ever since that fateful day, surrounded by the dead, he’s been enigma, a frustrating puzzle with pieces too many and too complicated for her to put together. He had been critical of her actions, of her softness, of her confusion. He had taken almost every chance he got to bemoan his position, saddled to a lackluster, talentless and amnesiac Master. From the first day, he had never hesitated making it known to her the things he thought of her, of her lack of experience, of her weakness. It was almost enough for Hakuno to forge a contract with another Servant, rules be damned.

Yet, for all his bite, he had never failed to defend her. He had never failed to guide her during the first round, in the face of Shinji’s gloating and Rider’s sneering gaze. He had never failed to protect her from the other Archer’s traps, laden within the school despite the prohibitions, and even though Robin Hood did manage to shoot her with his poisoned arrow, it was Archer’s relentless determination to push her through the Arena exit to get help, past the seas of enemy programs, a shield to the arrows Robin Hood had continued to shoot in the wake of their escape. He had never failed, be it before the mighty beast Alice had conjured — or even when she started losing sight of herself, of who she was, as the Nameless Forest slowly and slowly ripped her apart.

He didn’t call himself a hero. He said he didn’t deserve that title, that he was the exact anti-thesis to heroism. He called himself an ally of justice, a personification of justice, wrought with impunity. He said he was what made heroes shine, that he was the silence in the hero’s shadow. He couldn’t be any more wrong, to Hakuno at least.

She had been helpless, and he had held her hand every step of the way, even if that hand was covered in thorns and in the blood of the demons he carried on his shoulders.

Archer finishes the curry bread, and he closes his eyes and wipes his hands on his pants and for a moment, one tiny moment, a look of contentment passes over his features and Hakuno could almost see, with certainty, the man he was before justice chose him as its blade.

Then he opens his eyes and he’s looking back at her, and Hakuno feels something lance through her at his gaze. She feels her cheeks redden, and she’s stuffing the half-eaten bread back into her bag, no longer hungry, mumbling at her Servant that time for rest was over.

Archer doesn’t respond, simply stands behind her as she gets to her feet.

It’s later, when they’re on their way again, that Hakuno realizes that Archer’s coat had shielded her from the cold.

Ω

She knows they’re near, that the trigger was somewhere around here. Hakuno knows because the cold had returned, and it returned with vengeance. She started cursing in silence, angry at how ridiculous her outfit was. She didn’t even bother taking a coat with her, or the scarlet cloak Archer had given to her. Either would have been welcome in the face of the sheer _coldcoldcoldcold_ of the Arena.

Behind her, Archer was silent as ever, but he had stepped closer, and Hakuno doesn’t know if it’s because he’s cold or if he’s uneasy with the surroundings. Servants were made from the same data that everything else was, from the Arena walls down to the snow-glazed grass under her feet; perhaps it was this connection that had given him an uncanny sense of what was inside the Arena. Masters also shared the same intuition, but compared to Servants, theirs were inferior. However, Hakuno couldn’t find anything hostile around them, except for the relentless breeze.

It was like ice made air, and it cut at her like cold tempered steel.

They make a turn, and they face a slope. She turns to Archer, there’s a look of shared agreement, before they make their way up, their steps echoing against the glass-like floors that cut through the rendered grass and stone of the Arena field. Under the floors, pitch black darkness greeted Hakuno’s gaze, and it was almost like she was walking on darkness itself.

For some reason, she had the inkling fear that something would pop out from the darkness, another hostile program created by SE.RA.PH…or perhaps something unexpected, like a giant whale or a winged monster…the thought was ridiculous enough that she almost chuckled.

Perhaps she wasn’t as quiet as she thought she was, not after hearing her Servant hum. Hakuno shook her head at Archer’s curious gaze, and continued on their way up.

When they reached the grassy clearing, a green glowing cube floated over a transparent pedestal. The second trigger.

Releasing a sigh she didn’t know she was holding, Hakuno allowed herself to lower her guard, though she kept to clutching her coat. The cold still continued to bite at her.

Archer walked up to her, his figure emanating warmth that sapped the frigidness from her system. He rests a hand on his hip and leans on one foot, commenting. “Finally. I don’t know about you, Master, but I’m ready to leave this shitty dump and take a long snooze.”

Hakuno doesn’t know if it was the thrill of finding the second trigger, the cold digging at her sanity or Archer’s sarcasm but she finds herself laughing, short but genuine. “Count me in. Plus a long warm bath.”

She turns to look at him, and an amused smile plays on his lips. “Tea, as well. Right, Master?”

Hakuno nods. “Yes, please. Tea and a warm bath.”

Giddy at the prospect of returning to the privacy and security of their room, and perhaps also at Archer’s rare moments of carefree humor, Hakuno steps forward and raises her hand to the cube.

The cube glows brighter, and the codes written to keep it locked in place begin to nullify themselves at recognition of her Master-level data signature. The cube slowly pulls itself apart, and within, a code written in gold shines. She pulls out her terminal and puts it out before the code — there’s a slow whir and the screen of her terminal flashes. Trigger registered.

Hakuno barely has a moment to enjoy the small victory before there’s a large distortion in the space around them. She sees strings of values overwrite the surrounding data, the grass flashing translucent for a moment, the castle in the background going clear for a second and, on instinct, she steps back as Archer jumps in front of her.

The distortion flashes, and an enemy program appears before them.

It’s a program they haven’t encountered before, that’s what Hakuno knows. It was large, taller than Archer even, and humanoid in shape. It was bipedal, with thick legs and thicker arms, connected to a hulking chest. It was covered in pale green skin, if it was even skin at all, and what was supposed to be the head was nothing but a circular orb, a gaping hole in the center. It was like a nightmare brought to life, an unholy mixture of man and monster.

As a mage, Hakuno didn’t have to tap deep into the codes at her disposal to know the strength of the data keeping the program together. This was not going to be an easy fight.

Even Archer seemed to agree, a whispered comment reaching her ears.

Still; that didn’t mean they were powerless, that they were helpless. They’ve been through enemies before, been through Servants and Masters stronger than them, through perilous situations and they’ve managed to keep one foot in front of the other. This was the third selection, and they were not ready to give up — not when Hakuno was determined to see this through, if not for herself, then for her Servant that had selflessly thrown himself before her foes time and time again.

“Archer,” a grey eye glances at her. “Show them what we’ve got.”

A smirk, a silent agreement with his stubborn Master, and Archer faces the program head-on.

Twin swords, counter colors representing a symbiotic dance of karma, flash as they clash against data-rendered claws. Archer grunts as he raises the ebony Kanshou and slashes at the program’s arms, successfully countering a strike with Bakuya. It was like a dance, Hakuno noticed, the way Archer wielded his favored twin blades. There was a story in that dance, perhaps a story covered in blood and guilt, and each strike was Archer’s heart flashing before her eyes.

She’s ripped from her thoughts when Archer jumps back, narrowly avoiding the sharp-claws of the program as it cuts through the grass. Hakuno notices the surrounding data shuddering before returning to stability. This was not good. If it could tamper with the Moon Cell’s data like that, then it was really a strong program, perhaps even stronger than some Servants.

Rider, obviously, couldn’t crack the environment — even with her fearsome Noble Phantasm.

Archer, however, wasn’t dissuaded by the show of power. He jumps back into the fray, blades singing as he meets every attack head on, lips bared in anger, grey eyes fiery with determination.

There must be something she could do. She wasn’t that helpless Master she was during the Preliminary round.

She digs in her bag as she remembers the formal wear she brought. The protection charm shone from the depths of her pouch — a blood-red pendant, capable of bolstering her Servant’s defense stats. Next to it, silver greeted her eyes: the exorcist blade — coupled with the mana stores inside her, she could possibly nullify the program, for a while at the very least.

Without hesitation, Hakuno grabs the pendant and pressing it against her chest, she closes her eyes as the codes within her frame re-write themselves, swirling around the protection charm’s code, the values changing and — there! — mana pools into the charm and a purple glow envelopes her Servant’s frame, just in time as the program jumps at Archer.

She gasps, the image of Archer torn apart flashing in her mind, but the purple glow grows brighter as Archer growls, holding strong.

_gain_con(16);_

He’s pushed back, but his feet stay on the ground, blades crossed over him as the claws failed to penetrate the swords’ steel. Archer’s face, almost pale in relief, threatened to bring Hakuno to her knees in gratitude for the charm’s timely help.

There was no time for gratitude, as Archer takes the opportunity to push the program back, and before it could realign itself, he closes the gap and kicks it back, the program hitting the Arena wall with a deafening crack.

The program makes a sound, a grating, radio-like sound — as if it was edited on an audio recorder — before it slides to the ground, still.

Archer’s breathing hard, swords still poised, sweat trickling down his temple. Hakuno realizes that she’s no different, feeling the cloth of her uniform stick to her back, her hair limp against her hot neck, entire frame flushed in tension. She couldn’t even feel the cold anymore, not with how perilous the area had become. Was it over?

Just in case, she takes hold of the exorcist blade in one hand, letting the recognition of the codes embedded in it wash her in the safety a weapon could provide.

It had been a blessing in disguise, as the program makes the same sound again and rises to its feet. Archer growls, ready to fight it again, but Hakuno could see that he was almost approaching his limit. They had been through the Arena for hours now, and with almost no consumption save for that little break they had, they were beginning to eat away at whatever reserves they had left.

Holding out her hand, Hakuno closes her eyes in concentration as the mana pools inside her thrummed. She tapped into the power locked inside the exorcist blade, and almost as if there was an influx of power akin to a wave inside her, she thrusts out as golden light shoots from her hand.

_hack(16);_

The code hits its target at full force, the program awash with static energy, and Hakuno turns to Archer to give him the signal to finish it off when the program makes another sound, both Master and Servant turning back to it in alarm, as the humanoid monstrosity wails and flicks away the code as if it was nothing.

Hakuno, hand still raised, stares in shock as the hack disintegrates into zeroes. She had been so sure…

Fear runs up her spine as the program’s head, that gaping hole, changes its attention from Archer to her. Its form grows more intimidating as it slowly creeps up on her, hulking and she’s stuck in place, not knowing what to do.

Without warning, Archer crashes into the program, shoulder to shoulder and it wasn’t enough to hurt it, but enough to change its target back to her Servant. Archer’s angry shout at her pulls Hakuno back to reality, and she’s putting considerable distance from the program, cutting herself accidentally with the blade in her haste.

This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good.

Archer was giving it his all, but it was all he could do, keeping the program at bay as he tried to both protect himself and Hakuno. Once more, anger at how useless she was hounded at her, and Hakuno felt herself tense, not knowing what to do.

The program was relentless, not giving Archer the inch he needed to take it out. His twin swords were chipping at its defenses, but it would take too much time and energy before it could deal serious damage. Their only hope was for Archer to pull out his bow and unleash Hrunting. It would be enough to nullify the program, she was sure.

But how? How could she help give Archer that inch?

Then realization burns a hole in her mind as she recalls the program’s one-track determination to take out its target. When the program had shifted targets, it was the window Archer needed to unleash his bow, but she had been too near. She wasn’t afraid that he would miss, but she knew that Archer would not release it, knowing the damage had a net wide enough to pull her in as well.

But she had an idea.

Hakuno holds the blade tighter, throwing her bag away from her in fear it might get in her way. She couldn’t cast a code, Archer and the program were too close, and while Archer had nigh perfect accuracy, _she_ didn’t. No, she had to get in close.

It was risky, fatal perhaps and incredibly stupid — her Servant would have her head for it later — but it was the only chance they had to defeat it.

Holding the blade close, she takes a deep breath, takes a mental count and there! — just as Archer jumps back to avoid a blow, Hakuno pushes herself, blade soaring as she runs and jumps, digging the exorcist blade deep into the program’s skin. Normally, she couldn’t hurt it — it was impossible — but the data interruption caused by the blade coming in contact with the program would distract it enough from Archer.

“Hakuno—what are—?!” Archer’s shout of surprise and anger is cut off as she plants her feet against the program’s frame, ready to kick herself away. She’s sure Archer realizes her plan, as energy and data funnel into the surrounding air and a flash of red signifies the mythical sword used as an arrow for Archer’s bow.

Hakuno readies to jump, when the program, perhaps annoyed at her interference — or perhaps, realizing what she was up to — wraps one of its arms around her frame, locking her in place.

Its grip was tight, her breathing cut off in short pants, as Hakuno gasps, realizing the position she was in. Archer couldn’t fire Hrunting, and at this rate, he wouldn’t need to because the program would crush her to death in its grip.

She had to think fast, even as the pain threatened to leave her in pitch black darkness. She could almost hear Archer’s growl, indecisive and unsure as to how to proceed, the energy swirling around him as Hrunting was itching to be unleashed.

Tapping into the power inside her, Hakuno shouts “ _Now, Archer!_ ” as she unleashes the full force of the exorcist blade’s hack code, the paralyzing static lancing through both her frame and the program’s codes. It was a tiny moment, and the arm around her loosens, and with as much force as she could, she cuts the power and jumps away just as Archer unleashes Hrunting.

There’s a flash of red.

Sharp pain.

A wail of inhuman pain.

Archer calling her name.

Hakuno sees a bronze hand reach out for her, before a torrent of cold darkness descends on her.

Ω

“Master, you are one gigantic idiot.” is what greets Hakuno’s awakening consciousness, the bright light bringing sharp paint for a moment before her vision corrects itself. The pale white walls make themselves known first, and the blotch of red beside her sharpens to the coat of her Servant, the bronze skin of his crossed arms and fiery glare of his grey eyes.

The Nurse’s Station is quiet, save for the humming of the nurse, Sakura, and her breathing. Hakuno stills herself in bed, feeling dulled pain all over her form.

Then, a bronze hand appears in her vision, a plastic cup filled with water in its hold. She follows the hand to its owner, sees Archer look back at her, eyes of steel. He presses the plastic cup to her lips — and even through the pain, she feels the strength to refuse, just to spite him — but his heated gaze has her meekly opening her lips, letting the cool liquid refresh her throat.

When she had her fill, Hakuno grunts as she tries to sit up. Archer puts the cup back on the end table, and with one hand on her arm, guides her to a sitting position on the bed.

There’s a beat of silence,  as Hakuno just breathes, letting her body reacquaint with reality, before she turns her head to look at her Servant. There’s a pounding in her head from the exhaustion, but she could manage it, when she sees the tense way Archer was holding himself.

Just to break the silence, Hakuno blurts out, impulsive, the way she usually does.

“Are you angry with me?”

Like clockwork, Archer’s figure plucks like a bow and he lets out an aggravated breath. “Angry? No. Of course not, Master. What you did was pure genius. How could I possibly be angry?”

Which meant that he was still angry.

Hakuno felt the irritation spiking up at his sarcasm, but it was dulled by the warmth washing her frame as Archer’s words took in new meaning in her thoughts. He was concerned; he was angry because he was concerned at how she had thrown her life away so easily, and most of all, he was angry because he was concerned and _scared_.

The realization had her smiling, even if it extremely inappropriate given the situation. Archer sees it and his brows furrow as he scowls. “Why are you smiling? Do you not realize what you had almost done? Did your code-cast fry your brain to mush?”

She wants to say what’s on her mind, but she knew that it would do more harm than good and it would end up with Archer more standoffish than before; she settles with shaking her head, still trying to stop smiling.

Archer squints at her, perhaps suspecting her thoughts, before he grabs a chair and sits on it. He’s still fuming, Hakuno notices, and though it’s a better look on him than his usual dead, cynical stare, she wants to see that look of contentment he had in the Arena, during their little break.

She raises a hand and grasps Archer’s wrist. The white-haired Servant jumps, a little surprised, and stares suspiciously at her hand then back to her face. Her head is still hurting, but she manages a somewhat genuine smile. “I’m sorry, Archer. It was stupid of me, I know. But I did what I did because I thought it was the best.

I know what you’re gonna say, that Servants are meant to fight and Masters are there to support them. I know that, but I couldn’t just stand there and not do anything. You’re my Servant, I’m not letting you get killed because of how useless a Master I was. So, I’m sorry for letting you worry…but I’m not sorry for doing what I did.”

She continues to hold his wrist, and Archer is still tense, and Hakuno’s not sure if it’s just her, or perhaps a hallucination because of the pain, or something else, but Archer starts to relax and his glare lessens and he’s a lot calmer now, she thinks. At least, he didn’t look like he was about to skewer her with Kanshou and Bakuya anymore.

When Archer sighs, tired and long-suffering like he was babysitting a child instead of an adult, he uncrosses his arms just as Hakuno releases his wrist, resting it against her stomach. Archer’s still pissed off, that she knows for sure, but at least he’s pacified somewhat.

Her Servant mumbles under his breath, and Hakuno can’t make out everything but she does hear the tail end of “…too stubborn, just like her.” and “…just need a red blouse and pigtails and they’d be twins.”

Hakuno doesn’t understand what Archer is muttering, though she has some suspicion (perhaps she’ll ask him later, when she’s more awake, regarding a talented, irritable magus on the rooftop) but exhaustion starts to rear its head back at her, and she feels her eyelids drooping, the pain in her head dulling to a quiet _thump thump thump_ and, just like every other moment, Hakuno blurts out the thoughts running through her head without preemptive warning.

“But seriously, Ar—“ a yawn, her Servant’s grey eyes turn to her. She feels weirdly warm under their gaze. “—cher. Thank you. You’re my hero.”

A quiet mumble ends her sentence, her vision now slits as she’s a step away from falling into blissful sleep.

She doesn’t know if Archer’s gentle smile, his warm gaze or the shaking of his head were real or just a figment of her slumber-starved mind, she’ll just ask about it later. After a few hours of sleep, free of ice castles and cold winds and ridiculously strong programs.

Oh, and she should probably finish that curry bread, too, before Archer nabs it from her bag.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm also toying with the idea of novelizing a fate/EXTRA playthrough but that would mean my work isn't trash. which it is. trash, i mean.


End file.
